


He Loves the Colour Pink

by meldve



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, I'm sure there's a Haikyuu smut party there, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Relationship(s), Smut, a mention of Iwaizumi, and a hidden Kageyama, see u all in hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 04:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15987785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meldve/pseuds/meldve
Summary: What’s there to do on a Sunday other than sleep in?





	He Loves the Colour Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! In my country we spell colour with a u. Anyway, here is my first smut. It's more self-indulgent than my previous works. I used to think "maybe I'll just write G-rated fics and live my life sin-free" but we all know that is a lie because 1) we have all seen Oikawa's thighs and 2) the abundance of great fanfics that is smutty makes it harder to stay in the path of the light. I have 100% reserved my place in hell. I hope you enjoy it and my take on Oikawa.

“Sundays are for being lazy.”

“So?”

“So come back to bed and be lazy.”

You sigh with a smile and close your laptop. Reaching your body over to the side of the bed, you lean and place it on the floor, just under the bed in case it gets stepped on. Oikawa Tōru was a forgetful man. At least when it came to you, anyway. 

There are certain things that made him lose focus. You. Milk bread. You. The pain in his right knee. You. A pesky lower-classman who made the Japanese youth team. You.

Some of these things are not like the others. 

He would never complain about losing focus around you, though. Or the milk bread for that matter.

You turn back to look at him, his brown hair still perfectly coiffed from the day before. He’s smiling with his eyes closed like an angel, surrounded by white pillows, white sheets, the white sunlight streaming in from the curtains just next to your bed. He looks heaven sent. The only thing missing is a gold halo, but you know the real Tōru is far from an angel.

“Hmmm,” he breaths into the side of the pillow, yet to open his eyes. “So what do you want to do today?” You begin to lift the blankets, shifting your legs to the side so you can slide yourself in casually between the sheets and his body. His arms are open, already waiting for your arrival into the warmth he has kept for you, and only you. 

You lay on your pillow, face to face with a man who was once a competitor for your attention. You weren’t exactly looking for a boyfriend, but he was very charming, persuasive. He had a certain gleam in his eye that you still couldn’t forget until this day.

Slightly unhinged? Maybe. Determined? Absolutely. But, Oikawa knew his flaws by the time he was in his twenties, and it was something that he disclosed, up close and personal. In fact, he used them to his advantage.

He would chatter on and on about the volleyball players (“who I used to know _and_ shaped, thank you very much”) who were making the national circuit when watching Inter-Varsity games on the floor of your connecting dorm’s common room. He would relentlessly tell you, time and time again about the glory of high school volleyball, how it was never exactly the same when reaching university. How he never had another partner as capable as Iwaizumi. 

Tōru also had the best of personalities. He really did care for you. It showed in the way he responded to things you would tell him. He never shied away from a problem you were having. He always knew where the best places to go on dates were. He knew what made you angry, what made you upset, what made you happy. He made sure to tell you that he loved you. He loved you. He loved you. 

He loved that you accepted his flaws. He loved that you took him, in spite of his past and attitude. He loved that you didn’t try to change him. He loved that you understood. 

You understood his dedication to volleyball. You read the rules, you watched every single one of his games. You watched games on the television and in gyms around Japan with him. You took the time to remember positions, names of players, techniques. Techniques that he would mutter under his breath when he was intensely staring at the game, on the edge of his seat, his hands clasped together underneath his chin. 

You took him. All of him. 

No one had ever tried to before.

His hand rubbing the skin just over your right shoulder brought you back to reality. “I don’t know… What do you want to do?”

He opens his eyes. At eye level, his chocolate brown orbs capture yours in an instant. They darken. His hand stops rubbing your shoulder and slides down to your ass. “I could think of a few ways to spend this Sunday.” 

You buried your face further into the pillow, a slow burn appearing in your gut. “Well… I’m down for whatever you want to do.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you feel Oikawa’s lips press against yours, immediately swiping your bottom lip. You open your mouth slightly, and his mouth hovers above yours, both of your tongues suddenly fighting for dominance. 

After his hands snake themselves around your body, he uses both to grab onto your ass cheeks, kneading and rolling the skin between his fingers. With every release, the places where his hands used to be leaves a burn on your skin. 

Your skin feels hotter. The sheets become unbearable to be under, but you’re way too pre-occupied to do anything.

Your hands remain firmly grasped around his shoulders while he breaks free from your kiss and moves his lips to your neck. You gasp into the morning air, your eyes closing as an automatic reaction to the chill that runs down your spine. Oikawa moans quietly next to you, swirling his tongue, over and over that one particular spot on your neck. 

Gently unlocking your hands, you slide them over his shoulders, over his pecs, abs. His creamy skin now flushed pink with anticipation. He brings his face back up to yours, and you both return sloppy kisses back and fourth, smiling and giggling occasionally. 

Your hands find themselves lower, tugging at the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, you tug and twist while keeping your mouths completely interlocked. Your breath quickens and by now your core is burning, waiting for the next step. 

You tentatively reach down, feel his length with your palm. He’s hard and warm. He lets out another quiet moan.

You start working on his dick, languidly stroking with a semi-tight grip. You feel his breathing become slightly ragged, borderline erratic, but not quite there. You pick up the pace, gripping a little tighter, smoothly massaging him from base to tip, smearing the beads of pre-cum over his length. 

Oikawa breaks away from you to chuckle. “You’re so impatient today,” he breathes into your ear, teasingly. “I got the message loud and clear.”

He half-heartedly sheaths off his pyjama pants down to his knees, never fully taking them off.

You gasp when you feel a finger dancing on your clothed pussy. He’s tapping against the small unfolded territory between your puffy lips, fully aware of how excited you are by now. You can feel how wet your are by the cotton now sticking a little too uncomfortably on your swollen skin. 

Your body lays you down on your back, and Oikawa takes this opportunity to slide your underwear off of your legs. You’ve completely forgotten about the hand job you were giving before. He returns to your side, laying down next to you, and slides his middle finger up your slit. You body involuntarily shivers again. He starts to rub your clit at a steady pace, feeling the cum between his finger and your skin, occasionally dipping down to your entrance, where he never fully pushes his finger into. He’s teasing you, and you’re getting a little annoyed. 

You roll over and look him in the eyes, and before you even register the blush that’s now aflame on his cheeks, you immediately take his face in your hands and kiss him again, now straddling his body with your legs on either side. 

Breaking away from his soft, delicate lips, you work your way down his neck, while he rubs various parts of your body. Your breasts. Shoulders. Arms. Back. You’re driving him crazy, sucking on his neck like that. He doesn’t even care if you leave a mark or twenty. He can barely think straight. So much so that he’s absolutely uncertain of where to put his hands. 

Once again, you’ve made him lose focus.

Before he can think and act on his next move, you move from his neck down to his chest, placing kisses all the way down until your reach his pecs, then his abs, then his v-line and pubic bone. You look up to see if he’s still with you, and his head is thrown back against the headboard. His eyes closed, unbroken by any other movements.

Nothing, right now, exists, except yourself and him. 

You grip his length again, stroking it confidently while eyeing his facial expressions. He’s completely blissed out. No more lines on his forehead. No more creases between his brow. His mouth is slightly parted, with a little ‘o’ shape just barely forming. 

Sticking out your tongue, you start at the base, and painfully, slowly, drag it upward to the tip. He moans, guttural, deep, almost primal in its sound. You do this a couple of more times while your eyes are closed. 

Then, you take him in. All of him.

“Oh, _fuck_.”

Your head bobs, up and down, up and down, while your tongue swirls over his head. His cock is so smooth, with few veins adoring the sides. You think to yourself, this would be the perfect cock, if you ever had to judge.

His hand moves to your hair, never pressing, never forcing your head to move a certain way. It’s just there for grip.

With your ass in the air, you’ve never felt more sexy. The man you love is completely at your mercy. 

Your pussy wets at the thought.

You move faster, you suck tighter, you hollow your cheeks out and push him further into your mouth. He can feel the tightness around his dick, replicating the pressure that he feels when he hits that sweet spot right in the depths of your pussy.

“Oh, oh, I’m gonna cum…”

You attempt to take more of him in. You start to feel him at the back of your throat, and your eyes begin to water. However, you unrelentingly keep the pace, sucking until his hips are gyrating, as if they are trying not to bash into your pretty face. 

His breath hikes, and he makes a few incoherent noises. His hips are now uncontrollably moving against you, successfully face-fucking him for a few seconds before you feel his warm cum fill your throat and mouth. 

You bob slowly, up and down, and release his dick with a pop. You swallow him in one gulp. 

You look up slowly to see his flushed chest, rising and falling at a lightning pace, but he somehow makes it look delicate. 

His head is still laid against the headboard as support for his neck. 

You crawl over, draping an arm over his chest, and letting your head fall just on top of your hand, sighing into his body. He lifts his head and smiles, his eyes still closed. He hums, low and hushed before he leans down to kiss you. “Thank you,” he breathes onto your lips. 

For a moment, he looks completely at peace. His post-orgasm, flushed cheeks betray him. 

In an instant, he flips you over, making sure that your body is laid against the pillows, legs slightly spread apart. He begins kissing you again, softly, steadily, making your lips redder and redder as the seconds go by.

His hand moves from your cheek, in between the valley of your breasts, over the soft flesh of your abdomen, and dances on your pubic bone. He fingers your slit again, to find it warmer and wetter than it was minutes before.

Circling your clit with his fingers, he’s still kissing you. You make a mental note to congratulate him for not breaking while multitasking. 

You smile into the kiss.

He continues peppering your mouth with short, shallow kissing that make a click every time his mouth leaves yours. “What?” he asks, his smile now mirroring yours, in between the kisses in succession. 

“Nothing.” 

He takes that as a pass to move on. For a short, sweet moment, he pushes your thighs apart with his two hands. You can feel the rough callouses that have developed on each of his long fingers from years of volleyball. They dig into your skin for dear life. Possessive, almost, with the way he’s holding you. Peaking through your lashes, you catch his expression - a small hint of adoration. But that adoration turns slightly animalistic, with that gleam returning to his chocolate coloured eyes.

He ever so slightly tests the waters and slips his middle finger into your dripping wet pussy. His other hand starts circling your clit. “Aa-ah,” you moan, biting down harshly on your lip as a reaction to quieten down. Your hands don’t know what to and take purchase on both sides, gripping the bed sheets for stability. 

His eyes don’t know where to concentrate. He studies your face. Your eyes are closed with your head tilted back, your hair sprawled along the pillow case, your cheeks tinted with his favourite colour; pink. 

He studies your breasts. Their soft curves, their faded stretch marks, the way they move up and down with every single desperate breath you take. Your nipples standing at attention, trying to grab the attention of his mouth, he thinks. 

He studies your pussy. They’re as pink as the colour of your cheeks. Your pussy lips are almost as puffy as your mouth - and he hasn’t even sucked on it at all today. You’re glistening, dripping with cum, and he knows that it’s all for him, and only him. 

Just like he just thought, pink is _definitely_ his favourite colour. 

Oikawa slips another finger in, and the tightness overwhelms you. The blood in your body is rushing everywhere. You can hear your heart pound faintly in your eardrums, although if he keeps this up it’ll get louder and louder. 

Your moans filter in and out, you can’t really remember the sounds you make, or the noises that stumble between your parted lips. Not that you can think, or think of caring, really. 

Oikawa works faster, circling and rubbing, pumping his fingers in and out, occasionally curling when he sees necessary. 

You’re close, you are so, so, painfully close. 

He keeps the pressure on your clit, and moves forward to suck your right breast, adding a layer of oral fixation to your already overwhelmed body.

He swirls his tongue, lapping over your nipple once, twice, three times, before he moves to the left breast. His eyes are closed, taking in the supple, silken texture of each of your breasts. 

“F-faster…” your voice betrays your command, but he pays it no mind. He starts working, administering speeds that you alone could not ever pull off in your wildest dreams. You plead for more, “… Another finger…”

He releases your breast with a pop, and moves his concentration back down to your pussy. 

He pulls his two fingers out, and pushes in without warning, but in the slowest, torturous way possible. You feel the sting of the stretch, but that pain soon turns into pleasure with the way he’s doting on your clit. He’s still kissing you when you moan into his mouth.

He starts picking up the pace of his pumps, making sure you’re getting finger-fucked so good he’s sure you could cry on the spot. 

Your fingers grip the sheets harder, your kisses become feverish, desperate to have him everywhere on your body. You want his entire being to encompass you in this very moment. You want to give your soul to him.

The knot in your stomach tightens, constricting your walls. Your clit is begins to throb uncontrollably. Your entire body is set alight. 

Your is orgasm so powerful you couldn’t control your body for the last thirty seconds. The arch of your back catches you off-guard and launches your mouth onto his. 

Your hips rock back and fourth, side-ways, up and down. Your moans trap between your mouth and Oikawa’s because you can’t bring each other to tear yourselves apart. 

It’s a shame, really. He loves it when you make such pretty noises, but he’ll forgive you on this pleasant Sunday. 

Oikawa’s fingers slow down, pumping once, twice, then completely stopping inside of you. He pulls them out while you still have your eyes closed, your breathing ragged from sweet release. “Thank you,” you immediately breath out. He kisses your forehead in return. 

When you open your eyes, you find Oikawa holding the hand that was just inside of your pussy with his three fingers against the light of the window. He stretches his fingers apart and back together again, watching your cum slide down his fingers, strings forming on the sides, connecting them together.

The way he’s turned makes it impossible to read his expression.

He knees up in search of a tissue box, to wipe your juices off of his fingers. When he does, he immediately climbs back into bed and cuddles you from behind.

“I love you,” he breathes into your hair. It’s very quiet in your room now. “I love you, too,” you coo back at him. 

“I can’t wait for us to get married,” he starts, immediately changing the topic to a conversation you’ve had many times over. “We’ll finally have tiny Tōru’s running around our backyard. I can chase them. Teach ‘em how to play volleyball.”

You giggle at the thought. Of course he would see his children as tiny miniature clones of himself. “You’ll have to be with me everyday, you won’t be able to get rid of me, ever.”

He reaches past to turn your cheek towards his face, “I would never, ever dream of anything that could tear you away from me.” He kisses you, delicately, slowly, his hand treating you as if you were the most fragile thing on God’s given Earth. Both of his hands are holding your cheeks, keeping you steady while your foreheads touch. “You are the best thing in my life,” He breathes out. 

You overlap your hands over his.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on tumblr @ meldve.tumblr.com


End file.
